


Hello, Stranger

by arte



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 7x17 AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Season/Series 07, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/arte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emmanuel could recognize Dean Winchester in his newly acquired memory, but it was difficult to comprehend what he just saw - Dean shooting at him, stabbing the knife into his heart. Why did the man want to kill him?</p><p>A horrible realization came down to him.</p><p>Was he <em>Cas</em>? Was he the one who betrayed the brothers?</p><p>
  <em>Sam and Dean stumble upon Emmanuel earlier than the canon. Because of faulty memory, Emmanuel concludes that they are here to kill him. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love episode 7x17, there remained a few things that were left unexplored. Mainly, I wanted to see more Emmanuel. Yeah, that's the fic.

"Dean, are you sure going to this Emmanuel guy is wise?" Sam said as he followed his brother into the car. It was good that Dean's fruitless obsession over Dick had been put to a rest for a moment, but Dean obsessing over Sam was worse. The 40-year trip down to Hell was a stellar example of how not good it was. 

"Sam, I know this is a long shot, okay? But we have to try. What's the harm in trying, huh?"

With their luck, posing that kind of question was akin to just asking for it. Sam delivered this sentiment with his dubious glance. He knew how toxic false hope could be, and with Leviathans messing around, he didn't think they could afford this kind of futile search.

"Look, Sam," Dean said a bit impatiently. "Either this guy is legit and you get cured, or he's a total scam and we go back to ganking monsters while figuring out how to deal with Leviathans. That's all I'm suggesting."

"And if he's like the other faith healer we met?" The younger hunter asked quietly. "What if curing me means killing somebody?"

That's was the real reason he didn't want to go. If Emmanuel could actually heal, there was a high chance that he would require an innocent sacrifice for his power to work. In that case, no matter what event would take place, it would ultimately lead to Dean hating himself more. Since option A was throwing a civilian under the bus and option B was giving up on a cure dangling right in front of them, it wasn't a difficult guess to make. Sam didn't want to put his brother in that cruel, no-win position. 

Dean's jaw flexed. "Then we've got a case to solve."

The younger brother sighed. That was the-end-of-the-discussion voice, and at this point, he knew better than to argue his way out. 

"So, what pinged him on your radar?" Sam questioned as a way of offering an olive branch. Dean flicked him a brief 'don't patronize me' glare, but began to explain. 

"I stumbled upon Emmanuel while I was looking at one of Dick's interview. You know, where that son of a bitch bullshit about how he is going to revolutionize food industry and cure world hunger or something?

Anyway, at the end of the article, there was this colorful comment ranting about Biggerson's and Dick and how the only miracle worker he had witnessed was Emmanuel and not Dick. So I followed this commenter and found his blog."

"Wait," Sam frowned. His brother's narrative made no sense. "Dude just sounds like a regular hater. A well desreved hatred, but still. Why did you search for his blog?"

"You're asking that because you haven't seen that comment, Sam. It was a beautiful masterpiece of insults packed into few words. Somebody had to appreciate it and figure out its origin."

Sam leveled him a flat look. 

"What?" Dean raised one hand defensively. "You try staring at that smarmy face for hours. That comment was near cathartic."

"Alright," the taller man drawled in a tone that clearly stated otherwise. "You found the blog, and?"

"The guy's posts were full of volunteer works, charity projects and other do gooder things. I know, unexpected, yeah? So I skimmed along, and came across this two feet length of praise dedicated to Emmanuel," the older brother paused for dramatic effect. "Apparently, Emmanuel cured the guy's blindness."

If Dean was waiting for a round of applause, he would have to be disappointed. Sam was only feeling skeptical. "So? That kind of life altering story is easy to fabricate. You sure Emmanuel didn't pay the guy so he could gather his followers?"

"Yeah, I thought so, too. But Emmanuel did nothing but cure the guy. No surmon, no talk about God, nothing. According to the blogger, Emmanuel said that he was only trying to help."

"Ever heard about long con, Dean?"

"Shut up, smartass. I also found few others who claimed that they got Emmanuel's help. They all got no string attached treatment. And get this, he can cure craziness, too."

Now, even Dean sounded cynical about what he was trying to sell. Sam knew that this was desperation talking. Sadly, he also knew what triggered it; their last hunt. The younger man had almost gotten himself killed because he couldn't see the knife flying toward him. Lucifer had blocked his line of sight, and Sam, in his disoriented state, had blurted that fact out. This whole Emmanuel business was Dean's Hail Mary pass. 

"Well, the guy sounds suspicious at least. Let's see how it goes," Sam allowed as he settled himself more comfortably in his seat

The thing was, Sam really wanted to believe his brother. More than that, he wanted to believe that sometimes, good things happened just because. But unfortunately, in their line of work, good deeds were often only a flimsy cover for terrible atrocities. Hell, even angels were bunch of dicks despite their reputation. How could he hold onto that childish notion?

Sam just hoped that Dean wouldn't get hurt too much in this trip.


	2. Chapter 2

Daphne knew that there were evils around the world.

She was not talking about greed and hatred that drove people to unspeakable deeds. She was talking about things that lurked outside of perception of normality, things that were beyond mere human cruelty.

She didn't want to know. It had been 6 months ago, and the horror was still fresh.

It's not everyday that you stumble upon your co-worker torturing other people with look of sheer delight.

Daphne had moved out of the town almost immediately after the incident. It was her home town, but she couldn't stand to be there anymore. She was not naive enough to think that monsters wouldn't be able to follow her wherever she went, but her mind had screamed getawaygetawaygetaway so that was what she had done.

Daphne was uncertain on how to process all this. While she was thankful that Hunters had been there to save her that day, they didn't linger much for aftercare. One of the women had thrust a necklace that was supposed to stop possession at Daphne and had given a brief Protection Against Demons 101-Demons hate salt and holy water, and their eyes turn black when you say 'Christo'-, but that had been it. Apparently, when you make a ruckus with guns, and salt and burn down a corpse(the possessed man had been dead for months, and you didn't want him to haunt you according to them), the police tended to come. It didn't leave much time to talk.

To be more exact, she couldn't talk, period, because nobody would believe her.

Well, here's another thing people wouldn't believe, she thought as she blinked her eyes in surprise. A man, a naked man was looking around himself few feets ahead of her. Is he, her now unfrozen brain asked, is he a goddamed flasher? Her incredulity morphed into a hot burning anger. Life had thrown so much shit at her recently, and now this pervert was going to ruin her nice hike along the river? 

She stalked toward him heedless of the danger that the man could present. She felt absolute certainty in her fury and that was something she had been lacking for months. She simply needed it and damn the consequences.

However, as she got closer to him, it became more and more clear that the guy was far from a flasher who would be delighted in young women's discomfort. Yes, he was staring at her, but there was nothing smug in his eyes. He practically radiated the sense of being confused and lost. The water dripping down his face only made him seem more miserable.

He looked, she reluctantly admitted to herself, like he almost drowned and just dragged himself out.

"Christo," she bit out, warring between comforting anger and human concern. 

The confusion deepened in his reassuringly blue eyes.

Not a demon, that was good. She briefly wondered if she ought to worry whether or not he was some kind of other creature, but ultimately decided that she had to check if the guy was okay first. She had spent nearly three decades without having a fatal account with supernatuaral beings, and she couldn't let a possible patient suffer just because of her (justifiable) paranoia. Besides, if the guy was going to kill her, he would have already done something.

"Hey," she said, carefully out of his reach. "Can you tell me what you are doing here?"

"I... I don't know," the man said in a surprisingly deep yet soft voice.

That was unexpected, but Daphne was undaunted. "What's the last thing you remember, then?"

"I remember," the man frowned, searching within himself for information. "I remember nothing." 

A pause.

"Excuse me?"

A panicked air began to seep into the man's voice. "I can't remember anything. I don't know who-, I'm not-," he clicked his mouth shut. He seemed at a loss for words. His eyes latched onto hers desperately like she had all the answers. 

"Do you know who I am?"

It was how hopeful yet broken he sounded that finally convinced her. At that moment, she knew that the man couldn't be anything but yet another human being who had been screwed with life. "No, I don't know who you are," Daphne took a determined breath. "But I'm going to help you however I can."

-

Emmanuel was grateful. He only had a handful of memories, and he was still not apt at handling everyday human life smoothly, but he was aware of how good a life he had. He really couldn't thank Daphne enough.

When he first came across her, he was like a baby. He had no memory. He didn't know when to eat and when to sleep. Basically, he failed at everything that adult his age was supposed to be able to do without even thinking. Daphne had been eternally patient as she showed him the way.

"Why are you so kind to me?" He had asked her.

"You are making me sound like some kind of saint," she had laughed self-deprecatingly. "I don't think I deserve that. It's kind of selfish, to be honest. Helping you helps me a lot."

"I don't know why that should negate the fact that you're kind."

Her smile had softened. "You're kind, too. Sometimes, I think God wanted me to find you."

_God wanted me to find you._

Those words somehow resonated within him. Emmanuel. God is with us. It was funny how he had chosen that name even before Daphne mentioned anything about God.

"Daphne, you sure you don't want me to heal you?" He said as he readied himself to leave. 

"It's just a fever, Emmanuel. I have my medicine right here. A good day's rest is all I need," the woman gave him a fond smile. "You should use your gift for far more important things."

He wanted to protest that this was important, too, but gave up as he knew how stubborn Daphne could be. Instead, he promised that he would return with her favorite drink from the Nancy's.

 

Emmanuel found about what Daphne liked to call as 'his gift' two months ago. They had been taking a walk when they came across a blind homeless man begging for money. Something in that scene was familiar. It compelled him to get close. As such, he soon found himself crouched down in front of the man, putting a gentle hand across his eyes. The blind man sputtered at the sudden contact, but subsided as he blinked his eyes open in surprise. 

".....I can see. How did you fix my -," the homeless man swallowed hard. "Are you God?"

The awe in the man's voice made the amnasiac quizzy for some reason.

"No, I'm only trying to help," Emmanuel said, shutting the question down quickly. He scanned the man's face intently. "Was I able to help?"

The man goggled for a moment. "Yes, yes, absolutely." He brushed his eyelids softly, like the darkness would descend upon him once again if he dared to put more pressure on them. "Thank you," came out a heartfelt gratitude. It was followed by an enthusiastic hug. 

Emmanuel turned to Daphne, trying to figure out what to make of this, but stopped as he saw her expression. It was hard to define, but was that ...fear?

"Daphne?" He asked as the man disappeared. "Daphne, what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

She didn't respond. She looked haunted. Emmanuel didn't want to be responsible for that look. 

"I just wanted to help," no, that wasn't quite right. He searched for the right words. He wanted her to understand. After a while, he said quietly, "I need to help."

That seemed to bring her out of her stupor. Her green eyes locked onto his, looking for something. Whatever it was, apparently she found it, for her shoulders began to relax.

"Daphne?"

"Yeah, I-, sorry I froze like that. I was just reminded of something."

He stared at her in question but she shook her head. "Did you really cure the blind?"

"I guess so."

"How?"

"I wish I could remember," he answered wistfully. At Daphne's guilty expression, he quickly said, "it's okay, Daphne. But I just, I want you to understand, I need to help people." By the end of it, he was nearly pleading. He couldn't figure out why he was feeling so desperate.

Daphne grasped his hands, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to convince me. I was just surprised," she waited until he looked her in the eyes. "Not many people can do what you did, Emmanuel. It's a gift. And if you want to use it to help people, I'll support you 100%."

And support him she did. It turned out, even though there were many who could benefit from his healing ability, those who would put their faith in, well, 'an unknown faith healer' as he was referred to as, were few. Daphne handled contacting people and soothing few religious fanatics who began to hear a word about Emmanuel. She joked that she knew her experience as a secretary would come in handy one day. 

Emmanuel didn't know how to repay her for all she had done for him. If she had allowed him to heal her, he would have happily made sure she wouldn't have to suffer any illnesses in her life as a token of his gratitude. He didn't understand why curing her cold could be considered a waste, but nonetheless he respected her wish. It was a pity that getting Daphne her favorite drink was all he could do at the moment.

-

"Sam, just because you bought me coffee doesn't mean that our date is a success. You've got to put more effort into it."

Sam gritted his teeth as he tried to focus on his laptop. As if to compensate for yesterday's silence, Lucifer was now being particularly insistent. The hunter wanted to shout that he was never buying the Devil anything, but acknowledging him would only make things worse. He wondered if he should have gone with Dean to interview Emmanuel's 'patient'. Not looking weird while his hallucination was breathing down on his neck would have been difficult, but being alone with the Satan with no one to distract him was no picnic, either.

"Ooh, new comer," the Morningstar crooned as the bell rang. Despite his vow to ignore Lucifer entiterly, Sam's head turned toward the door.

"Hello, Jenny," said the deep voice. 'Hello, Sam,' echoed the memory.

No, no, no.

"Hey, are you alright?" 

Sam didn't know when the new guy had come so close. "Uh, what?" He made an attempt at intelligent reply. 

"Your hand," the guy made a motion toward his left hand as if to touch it, but stopped abruptly. That was when Sam realized that he was standing up, and that he must have spilt his coffee in his haste to move. 

"It's fine, um, the coffee wasn't hot," Sam replied belatedly. He was amazed that he could still string the words together at this point.

The man nodded determinedly. "I'll get you some tissues."

As he watched the man walk away, Sam sank down to his seat, feeling weak in the knees. And of course, the Devil couldn't leave him alone.

"Hey, you should look more happy to see my baby bro," Lucifer commented as he leant casually on the hunter's shoulder. "He's the one who made you remember all our happy time together, you know?"

Sam closed his eyes. He didn't know why Lucifer was doing this now. He had hallucinated many things, but Cas had never been one of them. Why the sudden addition to his torture routine? The approaching footsteps made him open his eye's again. Castiel's face was staring at him with concern and it hurt.

"You seem to be in pain. Should I have brought some ice as well?" The Cas look-alike asked as he carefully dabbed the coffee away.

"No, I, have been sitting here for awhile. The coffee was," Sam squeezed his right hand brutally under the table, willing himself to snap out of it. "Lukewarm."

"Oh, come on, Sam!" Lucifer threw his hands up even as he flickered in and out. "Stop being so civil! You stabbed him in the back the last time you saw him. Where's that fighting spirit?"

Sam curled his hand more tightly. Lucifer finally fizzled out entirely, but the man still remained. Did that mean that this was really Cas? But if so, why was he bothering with tissues?

"You're bleeding." 

The familiar voice snapped Sam out of his musing yet again. He mumbled something about old scars while mentally searching for clues that would tell him that he was actually seeing Cas. Of course, the reason hallucination sucked so bad was that it made you hard to trust your judgement.

The man gathered the used tissues carefully and gave a conflicted glance between the counter and Sam. "Listen," the brunet said after a moment of indecision. "I have to go for now. Daphne is waiting for me. Um, do you have a piece of paper and a pen?" 

Dumbfounded by the request, Sam automatically handed both to the man. He scribbled down something rapidly. "This is my number. Call me, and I'll-, I can heal you." Here, the man gave Sam an earnest look. "I truly can. So if your hand or anything hurts, please call me."

The hunter managed a feeble nod. Apparently satisfied with this response, the man turned his back, picked up something from the counter, and disappeared into the street. Sam stared after the guy until he couldn't see him anymore. The sticky feeling in his left hand was the only thing that remained to tell him that something had happened.

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly and groaned.

What was he suppose to tell Dean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Emmanuel Pov got across right. How was the story so far? I would love to hear your opinion :D


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you," Daphne smiled as Emmanuel set down a plateful of chicken soup in front of her. It had been years since someone had pampered her like this.

"Microwave did most of the job," the man shrugged dismissively.

"Still," she insisted. "Thank you for indulging me." She didn't let go until he accepted her thanks with a bashful nod. 

It was a recently acquired habit of Daphne, making sure that her compliments and appreciation properly sank into the ridiculous man she lived with. This good man used his amazing power only to heal and save as many people as he could reach, and yet he looked completely befuddled when people hugged and praised him. He was quick to take blame, but was slow to realize how he changed many lives for the better. It was a sad thing to witness, so Daphne started her own effort to change his point of view.

Sometimes, she wondered if this attitude had something to do with his family. She knew nothing about them since Emmanuel himself had no memory, but the way he had locked up when she asked if he remembered his parents or siblings... All his expression had drained away and only a terrifyingly blank shell had stared back at her. It had been enough for Daphne to back off and promise that she wouldn't try to search for his family until he was ready. He didn't seem to understand why she had changed her tunr so fast, but at the same time had never broached the topic again.

It made her feel a bit guilty. Shouldn't she have tried harder to help him get back to his original life? She was no longer sure whether she had made that decision because she respected his choice or because she didn't want to say goodbye. First two months in, she could have confidently say that she was only trying to help. But as time went by, she began to realize how alone she felt ever since the demon incident, and how much Emmanuel soothed that ache away. 

She wanted him to stay.

"Excuse me," Emmanuel winced as his phone rang shrilly. He fumbled his pocket for the source of the noise. "Hello?"

As Emmanuel didn't feel it necessary to seek privacy, Daphne could hear the one-sided conversation perfectly well. It went like this:

"Yes."

"Oh, sorry. It didn't occur to me... my name is Emmanuel."

"Yes, I'm him."

"Could you send me a text? It would be easier to remember."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

"Your new patient?" Daphne asked curiously as he got off the phone. Not many people had Emmanuel's direct number.

"I think so. I didn't stay for long because you were waiting for me," his eyebrows furrowed, transcribing guilt. "I said tomorrow because you seemed to be doing well, but should I have picked another date?"

"What, like right now?" she teased lightly. "Emmanuel, I said I was fine this morning. I have to go work tomorrow anyway. Go and do what you want. I know that you love helping people."

Emmanuel gave her his small, genuine smile. She knew she said the right thing.

"Just be careful, okay?" Daphne fretted. Perhapse she was a bit paranoid, but she worried that people would try to abducted him and use him for their own gain. Worse still, she was afraid of what would happen should the demons come to him. She only had one encounter so far, but that was enough to give her a nightmare. 

She hated the fact that there was so little she could do about the supernaturals. People, she could vet and call the police, but demons? She had given Emmanuel copy of her necklace, claiming it to be a good luck charm that he should always carry with him, and that was her best. 

It didn't help that Daphne couldn't tell him about supernatural beings. Part of her silence was because she herself didn't know much about the subject, but mostly it was because she could practically see Emmanuel blurting out the truth at inopportune moments. Being a terrible liar was a part of his charm, but it didn't help in not being considered psychotic. And there was no way she was going to let him be considered as a lunatic.

"You know I'm always careful," Emmanuel reassured, blissfully unaware of the extent of her worries. That was good. She had a feeling that if he became aware of monsters and all the damage they had caused, he would break himself to fix the whole world.

He did have too much heart.

-

Dean flipped the knife around his hand. His hands was clammy. He didn't like it. 

He didn't know what to think about this connection between Emmanuel and Cas. God, he should have worked it out faster. He meant, just how many tall dudes with dark hair and blue eyes did he know that also had a healing ability? He felt so stupid. He didn't want to think about it. If Emmanuel was really him, that meant that bastard had been hiding out here the whole time while Dean was having nightmares-

"Dude, calm down," Sam called out. 

Dean glared at him. "I'm calm. I'm freaking calm considering we have a dead angel playing faith healer here."

"Dean," his brother intoned cautiously, brows wrinkling gently. "You know that it may not be him. With Lucifer... he could have just- made Emmanuel look like him."

Yeah, and this was why he hated the fucking hallucination. He wanted it to be certain. His mind was playing ping pong with which way he would prefer - Cas or some fraud or another reaper leasher for all he cared- but if it was set in stone he could figure out how to proceed. This was all kind of messed up.

A knock came.

"I'll get it," Sam said needlessly. He was the one who met Emmanuel, of course it had to be him. Why did he have to say that? Dean stopped his legs from jittering.

The younger brother strode toward the door with two flasks in his hand, one filled with Borax and the other filled with holy water. He opened the door, but his big mass prevented the older hunter from seeing anything else.

"Hey, Emmanuel. Um, it might sound strange, but pour this on your hand and drink this before you come in?"

From the lack of screaming, Dean gathered that it was not a demon or a Leviatgan that visited them.

Sam finally got out of the way. 

And Cas was standing there, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't walked into the river and to his own bloody death the last time they saw him. It was Cas, in a dark shirts and pants, slightly different, but still him.

Dean had braced himself but he was still not ready for this. 

"Do you want to test that one on me, too?"

It's him, Dean felt it in his guts. His voice was softer, but it was still painfully familiar. It took a few seconds to actually register the question.

"What?"

"Your knife, I just have to make a little scar, right?"

He had forgotten about it. What the hell. "Yeah, that, right," he numbly passed the knife along and saw red blood welling on the man's wrist. And that was it. This was really... 

"I'm curious, what kind of culture is this?" Emmanuel asked as he rolled his sleeve back. The brothers did a double take, but the man continued on, oblivious of the others' reaction. "Not everybody insisted that I do this, but there had been a couple of people." 

Emmanuel looked around the room, as if he was expecting the Winchesters to teach him a new aspect of life. He seemed truly clueless. No one was that good of an actor, Dean thought. He felt like the rug got yanked out of his feet once again.

"Do you have a brother named Jimmy?" Sam blurted out beside him. Dean didn't know whether he should pet his brother on the back for forming a semi-rational thought or roll his eyes at the absurd direction of that thought. This wasn't a Star Trek episode. A twin? Come on. The little shit just made a face that said, 'Somebody had to ask this'.

Emmanuel tilted his head to the side with a frown. It hurt.

"I don't know. Why do you ask?" the brunet questioned.

"Curiousity, I guess," Sam shrugged, feigning disinterest. Dean, however, could see the cogs running frantically behind his brother's eyes, trying to understand what the hell Emmanuel was trying to pull. "What do you mean you don't know?" 

"I only have a few months worth of memory," Emmanuel admitted. "So before that, I have no idea."

Dean's heart skipped. An image of Cas sinking below the river flashed through his mind. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, but uh, how did that happened?"

"Oh, it's a strange story. You may not like it."

"Believe me, I will," Dean almost could taste the answer that was about to be delivered. There was no way he would let it pass.

"A few month ago, Daphne was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path drenched and confused and...unclothed," Emmanuel looked briefly uncomfortable toward the end, but his face soon softened into a wondering smile. "She said, God wanted her to find me."

"Who's Daphne?"

"She found me and took care of me. We live together," Emmanuel said, as if it was no big deal. 

Maybe it wasn't a big deal. But Cas (the river-why on Earth didn't he try to find the body) looking back at him without an ounce of recognition, it dragged up what Dean had been trying to push down for several months. He felt suffocated.  
God wanted her to find him? 

Dean was fucking done with God and his sick sense of humor.

"Enough about me," Cas said. "I didn't even ask for your name. That was rude of me."

Cas extended his hand, ready for a handshake.

Like they were strangers. 

"Dean, uh, Dean," he managed weakly. He felt hollow.

Warm and calloused hand gripped tightly, and it was gone.

"And you are?"

"Sam Winchester," Sam introduced himself, sounding far more coherent than Dean. "I'm his brother."

"Oh, is that why you asked me if I had a brother?" Cas looked interested. "Who's Jimmy?"

You don't even know the man you're wearing. Dean closed his eyes. 

He was forcefully brought back to the time when Leviathan had taken over the angel and had contorted his mouth into a grotesque grin. It made no sense. There was no reason to think of that now. This was a completely different situation. 

There was no monster involved. No one was trying to kill anybody and no one was bleeding. 

There was only Emmanuel, a guy who didn't know anything about hunters or angels. A guy who lived with a chick named Daphne.

_Cas is dead. He's.. gone!_

The cruel, mocking voice laughed in his head. 

"No one you would be interested," Dean replied with a forced smile. He stared at the set of blue eyes that was clear of guilt and anguish. This was Emmanuel, he reminded himself.

Cas was alive, but his friend was still gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly edited dialogue from 7x17 has been used. By the way, could anyone tell me how much time Cas spent as Emmanuel in canon? I'm kind of unclear on season 7 time line, so if anyone could help me it'll be great.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story. Please let me know :)


	4. Chapter 4

When Daphne was not home and there were no patients for him to treat, Emmanuel usually went to a nearby park. He would sit down and watch the world go by for hours. He never got bored. Each person had their own unique light drumming underneath their skin, and it was such a sight to behold. He didn't unsterstand how no one else seemed to be fasinated as he was. Maybe it was because he had no memory and everything was still fresh to him. 

As he gazed at the Winchester brothers, he revisited the thought that people would never cease to amaze him. Despite the disturbing darkness surrounding it, Sam's light still glowed, spilling out a pleasant warmth. And Dean had the brightest light Emmanuel had ever seen. It was peculiarly familar. The amnesiac couldn't take his eyes off it. 

Emmanuel lightly gave himself a mental shake. He shouldn't be so distracted. He came here for a job. He turned toward the younger Winchester and chastised himself for not snapping out of it sooner. Sam was squeezing his injured palm painfully.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Emmanuel half-shouted in alarm. It was difficult not to snatch the man's arm and just heal him. He had to remember what Daphne said; people wanted to choose for themselves.

"No, Emmanuel. I, I need this. Pain helps."

He didn't understand. Many came to him to ease their pain. "How can it help?" he demanded.

Sam's eyes flickered toward his brothers'. Emmanuel knew that they were having a complicated conversation through their silence. He wished he could understand what they were discussing. 

Finally, the younger brother let out a small sigh. "I'm seeing things that aren't suppose to be here. Pain grounds me to the reality."

The healer mulled over this. "So the hallucination has to go away before you stop hurting yourself."

"Yeah, that's about it."

Emmanuel slowly raised his hand. "May I?"

Sam closed his eyes. The amnesiac could feel a desperate hope radiating from the other man. "Please, go ahead."

Emmanuel touched the man's forehead lightly. He instinctively navigated through the mind and-

He stumbled backward. He had thought that he would be treating a schizophreniac, but the chaotic mess he had just seen wasn't it. It was far more hellish. The mind was on the verge of entirely collapsing. It was a wonder the man was even standing.

"What happened to you?" Emmanuel whispered in horror.

The older brother looked stricken. "Is it that bad?" 

"I don't-," Emmanuel inhaled deeply, scrambling for calmness. These boys needed him and he needed to focus. With a more steady tone he said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that. Can I take another look?"

Sam seemed incapable of speech. He nodded jerkily. This time, Emmanuel could find what was preventing the Winchester from keeling over on the spot.

"There's.. I've never seen something like this before, but there is some kind of a wall in here. Did somebody tried to help you before me?"

"Yeah, he was- a pretty powerful dude," Dean answered in his brother's stead.

"I can sense that. I don't think I can rebuild this," Emmanuel squinted his eyes, searching through his options. "The best I can do is metaphorically patching up the wall a bit with the fallen bricks. This would perhaps lessen the frequence of the hallucination, but it'll only be a temporary measure. If you push it, it won't be able to handle the pressure."  
Emmanuel felt lost. Before this, he had always been able to coax mind and body into its rightful state. He could help provide peace and comfort in certain degree. And now, standing in front of the torn and frayed mind of this brave man, there was so little he could do. What good was his power if he couldn't help? He bowed his head. "I'm sorry I can't do more."

"It's okay," Sam said softly. Emmanuel shook his head. "No, really, Ca-Emmanuel, it is. You're helping, that matters."

The amnesiac wasn't proficient at parsing through complex mess of human emotion, but even he thought that this was a strangely heartfelt declaration from someone he had known for less than an hour. Perhaps the situation was making the man emotional.

"I can patch up the wall while you sleep," he offered as a way to escape from this stressful situation.

Sam glanced at his brother. "Yeah. Could you do it now?"

Emmanuel got to work.

-

Dean sat hunched on the dingy chair of the motel, leaning heavily on the table. He desperately needed a drink, but he couldn't. Not while Sam was knocked out cold and the healer sat frozen beside him. 

The hunter felt a slight presence but didn't acknowledge it. "It's done," the brunet hesitated. "May I ask what happened to him?"

The blue eyes were filled with pain and sadness. It made easier to find the angel in this stranger. A hysterical laughter bubbled beneath Dean, but he suppressed it with clenched fist. "Someone did this to him," he bit out.

Emmanuel sat on the chair opposite to him. "You're angry."

"Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head."

"He betrayed you, this dude," Emmanuel observed. "He was your friend?"

Dean didn't want to remember, but his thought reached out to the angel who got blown into smithereens twice because one human asked for his help. The angel who betrayed him in the most painful way. 

Cas, who didn't remember any of this shit anymore.

"Yeah, well, he's gone."

"That's good."

Dean's head snapped up at the uncharacteristically vicious remark from the previously mild mannered healer.

"What?"

"If you saw what he did," Emmanuel shook his head. "He deserved to die."

Perhaps, right after the angel had declared himself as God, Dean might have felt satisfaction at those words. But after all those months he had spent -as much as he didn't want to admit to himselves- grieving and looking back on where it went all wrong, it didn't sit right. It hurt.

"Honestly, I, I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier," Dean shakily told the ghost that was wearing a familliar face. He knew that he should shut up, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. "You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. Whatever it was, it might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why."

"Well, it doesn't matter why." 

"Of course it matters," he snapped. What right did the guy had to reduce everything they had been through in those simple words?

"No," the healer cut him off before he could start his indignant tirade. "You're not a machine, Dean. You're human." 

It got the hunter stumped. Of all things, this free permission to _feel_ was not what he expected. With a rush, Dean wanted his friend back. He wanted Cas to be here telling him this. That Dean could rage and grieve as he wished. That Cas would take it, and not leave again. That after Dean finished giving few choice words, they would work out all the crap between them and return to being close friends again. He was tempted to spill the entire bean in the hope of making the angel remember.

"It must be weird not knowing who you are," Dean spoke without meaning to.

Emmanuel tilted his head at the non-sequitur. Nontheless he answered, "well, it's my life. And it's a good life."

"Yeah? How come?" 

"I had so much help. I couldn't do anything right for a while, but Daphne was very patient. Now, I found that I could help people in return. I'm grateful for this," Emmanuel's smile was earnest and content. It effectively stopped whatever words from forming behind the older Winchester's mouth. He thought that Emmanuel was fake, a flimsy shell that replaced the real deal. But that smile, Dean couldn't even remember if he'd ever seen Cas this relaxed. He didn't realize that Cas had paved a new and better life with no memory and no Winchesters around.

And didn't Cas deserve this? Make no mistake, Dean was still pissed about what he had done. The deal with Crowley, breaking Sam's wall, letting the Leviathans out... if it had been anyone else, Dean would have ganked the son of a bitch with no consideration of second chance, but this was Cas. The only angel who had stuck through three measly humans for a hopeless quest to stop the Apocalpse, the one who had continued to pour out everything he had to make sure that the world would proceed as usual. In hindsight, past the absolute betrayal he had felt, Dean could recognize the good intention that had gone horribly wiry. Who knew that better than the Winchesters anyway?

"How about you? What do you do for a living?" asked Emmanuel before Dean could properly sort through his feelings. Dean opened his mouth.

"We hunt," a second of indecision came and went. "-animals, that hurt people."

"You mean like grizzly bears or something?"

"Yeah, or something." Hiding supernatural reality from a supernatural being, God, what the hell was wrong with his life?

Emmanuel cocked his head in consideration. An unmistakable look of admiration filled his blue eyes. "You save people." 

_Damn it, Cas. We can fix this!_

_Dean, it's not broken._

Dean couldn't stand the gaze. He averted his eyes. He swallowed.

"We try."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, how you feeling?"

Sam Winchester woke up to his brother anxiously hovering over him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled himself up.

"Well rested," the younger man replied, feeling surprised at his own answer. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Just a couple of hours. So I guess Emmanuel's mojo worked?"

"Yeah," Sam could sense some kind of barricade inside of his mind, redirecting his thoughts so they wouldn't go to certain places. It was disturbing, but that was better than the Devil creepily stalking him. It also didn't feel as intrusive as Death's wall had been, since the newly erected barrier had weaker presence. It felt more like a makeshift shack about to fall over than a solid wall. That image was warning enough not to poke it unnecessarily. 

"Speaking of Emmanuel, where is he?"

Dean turned his back toward his brother, and started to needlessly fuss over their weapons. "He went back to his home."

Sam stopped craning his neck to see if anyone was in the bathroom. "What?" He couldn't believe this. "Emmanuel is Cas, isn't he?"

Dean's jaw flexed. "Yes."

"And you let Cas, who has no idea who he is, just go?"

"What, should I have tied the guy down? He had places to be."

Now Dean was being deliberately obtuse. "He would have stayed on his own if you told him that you were his friend."

Dean slammed down the whetstone on the table. "You think it's that cut and dry?" He whirled, all tightly coiled emotion. "Sure, let's tell him we were friends. And then what? You know what he did."

"Dean," Sam said quitely. "He was only trying to help."

Dean laughed. It was hollow and ugly. "You think that would do jack squat in making him take everything in stride? He doesn't know anything," The older man exhaled wearily, and sat down on the bed as all the steam left him. He ran his fingers through his hair. "He's like a damn civilian, Sam. You think he's gonna believe us just like that? We were hunters and the whole Apocalypse crap was difficult to swallow. You tell him all and he could have snapped or, or disappeared, who knows?"

How can we drag a civilian into our lives?

Dean didn't speak this out loud, but all the same Sam could hear it clearly. The younger man thought of the description of Emmanuel he saw on the internet; gentle, unassuming man who refused to be paid for what he did, the one who said he was just happy to be of help. He sounded like a good man. Hell, Sam knew that at his core, Castiel was a good guy. The angel made some terrible choices, but he had died(in a sense) trying to fix his mistake in the end. Sam could empathize. He wished he could just let Emmanuel be.

"Dean, you know we need Cas' help," Sam felt so low as he said this. Emmanuel might be a product of amnesia, but he was still a person who had his own life. The hunter was suggesting that they should destroy a good life for their cause. The fact that they were trying to save the world, that the Leviathans were out in the first place because of Cas, didn't give much comfort.

"Him trying to help was what caused all this." 

It was tough words, but Sam recognised that there wasn't much fight behind them.

"We don't know how to stop the Leviathans. We don't even know where to start." Sam whispered as he stared down at his hands. "Cas might know something."

Castiel, not Emmanuel. They needed an angel who had all his memories, not a peaceful healer roaming from town to town.

Sam hated how it was always their jobs to make these decisions and stop the world from offing itself. 

"Tommorrow," Dean said after a length of silence. "We call him tomorrow morning. Let's just... give him a day."

_It might be the guy's last day._

Sam nodded mutely. The world might be ending, but they could still give their old friend a few more hours of peace.

-

Emmanuel had spent more time with the Winchesters than he had intended. He was used to treating people almost instantly, but Sam's damage was beyond any imagination. He had to spend a good hour manipulating the debris in the man's mind to form a semblance of barrier. 

Then, there was Dean. 

He didn't know why he felt so reluctant to leave the man. By all means, Emmanuel should have left the moment he finished rebuilding Sam's wall. There was nothing more he could do. But as soon as Dean's slumped back came into his sight, he had this compulsion to sit down and offer his company. It all felt so natural. Something nagged at the back of his mind.

Of course, that could have been his conscience telling him that he had been forgetting about Daphne. She said she was fine, but she had a habit of doing that, so he ought to have thought of checking up on her. He usually did, actually. What was different this time?

There was no use delving into it, thought Emmanuel as he approaced his home. It wasn't like he would cross path with the Winchesters again. He ignored the strange pang in his heart and retrieved the key from his pocket. He put a small pressure on the door, and was surprised as it proceeded to slide open. It was already unlocked. He felt a prickle of unease.

"Daphne? Did you come home early?"

Emmanuel slowly stepped into the house, and stopped. Daphne was silenced and bound on the chair. Her eyes shone with fear and worry. 

"What-,"

" _You_ are Emmanuel?" A foreign voice exclaimed from his left side.

Emmanuel turned and almost stepped back in disgust, for the man in front of him had the most sickeningly twisted and hideous darkness writhing inside him.

"You were supposed to be dead," the man said, but Emmanuel wasn't listening anymore. His feet carried him toward the intruder by themselves. Emmanuel felt no fear. A primitive part deeply buried inside him guided him, and the only thought that filled his mind was to destroy this creature. 

"Fuck-."

Emmanuel calmy put his palm against the now trembling thing and light shone from his hand, eraising the repulsive being from existence.

At the same time, sudden image unfolded behind his eyes. He instinctively knew that this was his memory, the part of himself that he had been missing all along.

_Light bulbs shattered and sparks rained down on him. He saw two men waiting for him, armed with guns. They started to open fire, but it didn't faze him. He kept striding foward until he stood in front of the green eyed man._

_"Who are you?" It was said with utter suspicion._

_"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he said without much inflection._

_"Yeah. Thanks for that," the man reared back and plunged the knife into his chest. He looked down, and pulled it out without much concern. Another attack followed. He blocked it with ease and put the attacker to sleep._

Emmanuel blinked in confusion as the vision died down. That was Dean Winchester in his memory. Why didn't Dean say that he knew Emmanuel before? No, more importantly, why did Dean tried to kill him? Dean was a good man, so why would he just start shooting--

He couldn't follow his line of questions further as another sets of images sprang forth.

_He was in another dark, enclosed space. Four people surrounded him, each armed with gleaming silver blade. He looked around wildly and locked his eyes with one woman. "Sister, please don't do this."_

_The blond woman dressed in sharp suit regarded him cooly. "You're the one who has to be stopped, Castiel."_

_"You don't understand, if you knew-,"_

_"Silence. You'll return home and learn your place."_

_With that, two men rushed torward him. He ducked, letting one blade swish the air above him harmlessly, and whirled to slash the other man's abdomen with a blade that suddenly appeared in his hand. There was a horrible scream, but he ignored it, too busy to jump out of the survived man's enraged attack. They parried back and forth, but he took the man by surprise by punching the man in his blind spot. He managed to sink his knife into the man, but a sudden pain in the back of his knees made him lose his balance. He twisted his body and found a dark skinned woman who had been watching their fight rasing her leg. She kicked him again before he had a chance to evade. He skidded along the floor and felt his strength leaving him with unnatural speed. Alarmed, he turned his head and saw a strange symbol directly behind him. The blonde woman sneered down at him, and began to utter series of guttural words. He screamed and curled himself into a ball as a painful yanking sensation intensified-_

Light flared behind his eyes. Buzzing noise filled his ears.

_Castiel, you son of a bitch! ---an angry voiced broke through the static--- I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more. This is the thanks I get? -- white noise buzzed out. The voice turned pleading---Help me, please. You promised--_

Sharp, high-pitched wail pierced him, and Emmanuel got thrown back to the present. Oh, Gracious, he fell to his knees. He felt numb. He remembered how easy the grip of knife was in his hand, and the senation of slashing through flesh and blood still lingered. So much violence. What kind of person was he?

Castiel. _Cas_.

A puzzle piece clicked into place. 

Was he Cas?

His eyes widened in horror.

Was he the one who betrayed Dean and devasted Sam's mind? 

In his memory, he had shown no hesitation as he murdered those two men. God only knew how many people he had killed to achieve that level of sufficiency. Mercy, they were only trying to stop him.

He clutched at his chest. It was where Dean had planted his knife in him. Why wasn't he dead? He should have died. The attack was supposed to be fatal. He closed his eyes tightly. What kind of monster was he? 

"Mm- mmph!"

A muffled yell came into his notice. He looked over his shoulder, momentarily surprised to find another presence. 

Daphne.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry."

Emmanuel unsteadily climbed to his feet and rushed toward her. He freed her without too much fumbling.

"Daphne, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," she shook her head. "There's more important thing. Emmanuel, they were looking for you."

He glanced at the corpse with burnt out eyes. "I killed him," he mumbled. How did he know he could kill the man with only a touch?

"That's-, Emmanuel, look at me," Daphne forcefully grabbed his chin and made eye contact. "I know it's going to sound crazy, but that man wasn't human. He was a demon. A demon as in, as in an evil being from the Bible. You saved me. Do you understand me?"

A demon? Was that what that black mess under the man was called?

"Demons are real?"

"Yes. I couldn't tell you before because it was so hard to explain."

"Daphne," he didn't want to ask, but it made too much sense. "Am I, am I a demon?" He didn't want to believe that the repulsive darkness also resided in him. But it explained why he didn't feel the need to eat or sleep. Why he did things that no human could. He wasn't human.

"Oh, Emmanuel," Daphne looked appalled. "How could you think that."

He couldn't stand her kind gaze. He didn't deserve it. "My memories, I regained some of them. I don't think I'm human."

"That doesn't mean you're a demon."

"You don't understand, what I did-,"

"Christo."

He blinked up at her at the completely nonsensical phrase. "Pardon?"

"Your eyes would have turned black if you were a demon," Daphne simply held his arm until he fully comprehended the information. "Yours still remain blue."

He exhaled shakily. It didn't make what he did all magically go away, but nonetheless it brought huge relief. Daphne gave one last squeeze to his arm and let him go.

"Daphne, did the demon told you why he was looking for me?"

"He didn't seem to know who you are. He said they, demons heard about you and wanted to check if you were the real deal. He wanted to take you and see," here she gave a nauseated quiver. "What made you tick."

He stared down at the corpse one more time. It made things clear. "I have to leave."

"You don't have to," she was quick to reassure him. "I got contacts with the Hunters, we could prepare more thoroughly-,"

"That's not what I meant. Demons are not the only ones looking for me," he took a step back to put a distance between them. "I have to leave before they think you are like me."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I killed and ruined many lives. There are people who want to stop me. If they think you are like me, a, a moster, I don't think they'll be forgiving."

"Are you sure you're remembering things right?"

That response was not on any list of things he had expected to hear. He stared, dumbfounded. "What?"

Daphne looked determined to drill her point home. "I've only known you for a few months, but I knew you when you had nothing. And the first thing you said you wanted to do? It was to help people. I don't think a monster would be like that."

The thing was, he desperately wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he killed in- a self-defense or something, that there was a good explanation for what he remembered. But what he saw in Sam's head, that wasn't something one could do accidentally. That was pure, malicious torture.

"Daphne, I never thought I would willingly hurt or kill people. I never felt like a bad person," Emmanuel slowly confessed. "But it's as you said. I was only Emmanuel for a few months. I was this, other person , for the rest of my life. I don't know what made me, him , do what he did, but it was unforgivable." He bowed his head, feeling ashamed of what he did, the extent of his sins he couldn't still remember. "Because he had the same ability as me. He could heal people, but instead he chose to do harm."

"Emmanuel-," Daphne took a step forward, but he flinched and backed away. 

"If my memory return, if I remember everything, I'm afraid Emmanuel wouldn't be enough to stop who I was," he pleaded as he saw Daphne opening her mouth. "Please let me leave before I could hurt you."

He couldn't look at her anymore as those green eyes shone with unshed tears. He fixed his gaze on the tip of his shoes until he heard her say,

"What do you plan to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback memories are from 4x01(Castiel's first entrance) and 4x20(Imagined scene of Castiel's fight before he got dragged back to Heaven). Poor Cas, memory without no context is really not fun.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam called Emmanuel in the morning. It was kind of early, but the brothers had been high-strung and wide awake since 2 a.m., and the healer technically wouldn't need sleep, so he threw politeness to the wind. Giving Cas more time to enjoy his new life was all good in theory, but the anticipation made Sam and Dean both on edge.

"Hello, who is this?" A distinctively female voice answered.

Sam floundered at the unexpected twist for a moment and stuttered, "Uh-, I, I thought this was Emmanuel's number?" 

"It is. If you're looking for him, I'm sorry but Emmanuel left."

"What? When?"

"Just yesterday. He had ...new revelation. Try Georgia , he was headed that way."

"Oh, of course, thanks-."

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the conversation. That was terse, Sam dumbly stared at his phone. He returned back to the room feeling a little lost.

"What did he say?" Dean asked while he put his boots on.

Great, Sam internally groaned, why was he acting as a harbinger of awkward and potentially devastating news these days? He really didn't appreciate this. "It was a she, and apparently, Cas left the town."

Dean's head whipped up. "What? When?"

"Yesterday. Judging by the timing, I think it was right after he went back home. Did he say anything to you?"

"No, just that he had a good life here."

"Alright, whatever his reason might have been, let's go before we loose him. She said he was headed to Georgia ."

The brothers gathered their things with practiced ease. They were about to leave when Dean raised his hand said, "wait, who's this 'she' you're keep talking about?"

"How should I know?" Sam shrugged his duffel bag on his shoulder. "I guess it was Daphne. Cas did say he lived with her."

"She didn't tell you her name?" Dean pressed.

The younger man frowned, figuring out what his brother was getting at. "No... come to think of it, she didn't ask for my name, either."

"Yet she told you Emmanuel's whereabouts just like that."

"You think Daphne was lying?"

Dean gave him a significant look. "Maybe it wasn't Daphne." 

Sam sometimes hated their line of work. It made him capable of imagining worst case scenarios that wasn't even on the list of options for most people. He sighed.

"Good thing I found Daphne's address in my research, huh?"

The older brother chuckled weakly.

"Yeah, Mr. Stalker, your obsessive streak saved the day." 

-

The car stopped in front of the white, orderly looking house. The windows were all intact, and no scream came. Not that it meant much, but it was nice to know that they didn't have to rush into the middle of a war zone in panic.

They approached the house wearily, not openly waving their weapons in case they were wrong. Sam put his hand on the demon killing knife which was hidden behind his back, and knocked.

"Is anybody in there?" More knocking. "I was just on the phone and wanted to ask some questions."

No one came. The brothers were interchanging looks to decide on their next course of action when the door opened. 

And _splat_!

Sam sputtered as water hit him out of nowhere. 

"You're a hunter?" Dean asked as he discreetly let go of the gun he was about to whip out.

Duh, Sam wanted to say as he wiped his face. It wasn't like there were whole lot of people out there who greeted their visitors with splash of water. 

"Who are you?" The woman asked suspiciously. It was lucky she hadn't seen their weapons yet, or the conversation would have ended before it even started.

"Hunters. Can we talk inside?" Dean said, radiating annoyance.

What the hell, Sam frowned. "We are Emmanuel's friends," he quickly offered before his brother's tone could get them thrown out. "We knew him before he lost his memories."

The woman hesistated, but didn't open the doors any wider. 

"We know him. Look, Daphne, right? I know that he wouldn't have eaten or slept unless you prompted him. And even then he would have never complained about being hungry or getting sleepy."

For some reason, Dean's little speech made her look more afraid. Sam's jaw slackened a bit as he recognized the expression on her face. He had seen it on his brother often enough. 

She was trying to protect someone. 

Did she thought that they would attack Cas?

"Emmanuel helped us more times than we could count," Sam spoke slowly, trying to sound as earnest as possible. "We thought he was dead. Now that we found him, we're trying to help him in return." He pushed aside a small doubt asking him, oh really, aren't you trying to push the angel back to the war and get him killed again?

Daphne looked indecisive, but held the door for them.

The brothers checked their surroundings instinctively. They raised their eyebrows as the found salt poured on every window sill. "Salt lines, well, aren't you prepared," Dean commented.

"The one time I took out the mat with a Demon Trap to wash it, a demon came in. I'm feeling justifiably paranoid," she paused. "Any recommendation on more thorough defense system?"

Sam glanced at the door mat in question. "I thought you were a hunter?"

"I'm not. I just had unlucky encounters with demons," she shrugged. "The hunters I met weren't terribly informative." 

She ushered them to sit and disappeared into the kitchen. She was very firm on the idea that she needed caffeine in her bloodstream to talk with them. The Winchesters agreed.

"You're doing pretty good," Dean acknowledged, slightly letting go of his grumpy attitude. "Might want to load up on silver and iron. Lots of nasties hate them. Also, get the anti-possession charm tatooed if you already haven't."

"Noted."

"So, Emmanuel, is he really gone?"

Daphne gave the hunters an assessing look. "How did you met him?" 

For a second, Sam thought Dean would openly protest that it was irrelevant, but the older man died down with pursed lips and lowered gaze.

"I was in a really bad place," Dean didn't say anything else for a while, then quirked a humoreless smile. "You can say it was Hell," he held his hands together tightly. A pause. At last, he quietly confessed, "he saved me." 

That was more honest than Sam had expected. Surprised, he turned to check the woman's reaction. A sense of deep relief was etched onto her face.

"So he was a good man," she breathed out.

There was a story behind those words. "Could you tell me what happened to him?" Sam probed gently.

Daphne nodded, coming to decision. "Yesterday, while Emmanuel was out, a demon came in. He said that rumors about Emmanuel's power circulated among demons. Most of them thought it was a fraud as usual, but the demon wanted to check. The things he said..." she shuddered. "No matter, anyway, Emmanuel came back. He saw me tied up and just," she gestured vaguely. "Strolled in. He killed the demon like it was nothing. Then, the next thing I know, he was crumbled to his knees."

Sam wrinkled his brows in concern as her voice wavered toward the end. Daphne saw this and nodded in appreciation. She took a sip from the coffee, steadying herself.

"He released me, and seemed shaken at the fact that he just killed a person. I told him it was a demon that attacked me," she shut her eyes, pained at the memory. "He asked me if he was a demon."

"What?" The brothers who had been silently listening to her account, yelped in unision.

"How can he think that," Dean whispered, aghast.

"That's what I said," Daphne smiled weakly. She looked relieved that someone shared her sentiment. "I proved him wrong on that point, but he insisted that he was a terrible person, that he wasn't even human. He said he remembered what he did. He didn't remember everything, but it was enough to convince him that he was unforgivable."

Sam was speechless. He wondered what and how much Cas had remembered to think that he was a demon for even a second. Did he remember the whole mess with Crowley? Did he even remember why he chose that course of action? 

Sam thought of his own horrified reaction at finding out what his soulless self had done. He still felt guilty about it, but he knew why he acted like that and it gave him strength to try and seek redemption. He imagined not knowing the reason, waking up one day only to find his hands soaked in blood. 

And Emmanuel had been trying so hard to help people.

He felt like throwing up. He glanced at his brother's pale face and knew that Dean was feeling no better than him.

"He said he had to leave, that there were people persuing him for his wrong doings," she continued on her tale, lost in staring at the black coffee swirling in her cup. "More than that, he was afraid that he would revert back to his former self once he regained the rest of his memory and hurt me. I tried to convince him that he might be remebering things wrong for hours, but he was adamant. He won't even tell me his real name."

Dean's Adam's apple bobbed. He opened his mouth but no sound came. His throat seemed to have locked up.

"Did he really go to Georgia ?" Sam asked in his brother's stead.

Daphne shook her head. "No, he said to give a false trail for anyone looking for him. He told me people would leave me alone if I said specific place instead of pleading ignorance," she locked her eyes with Sam, conveying _I'm trusting you here and if you lied to me, so help me god_. Getting the message, he nodded.

"So where did he go?"

"He didn't tell me exactly. I just know that he was going to take a bus."

"Thank you, Daphne. We'll find him."

Sam stood up. His brother belatedly followed suit. Before they could go, however, Daphne stopped them, saying, "wait, can you tell me Emmanuel's real name?"

The older man looked back at her with shadowed eyes. "He might have been right in that regard. Not that Emmanuel was ...a bad guy, but that knowing him is dangerous. He," Dean swallowed. "He tried to save the world and it made him lots of enemies. They might try to torture you if they think you know something."

Daphne seemed to consider that. "I already lived with him for months. A name would do no more harm," she looked determined, voice fierce. "He's worth knowing."

Dean remained speechless for a moment. "Yeah," he said roughly, meeting her gaze. "His name is Castiel. We called him Cas."

"Cas," her eyes turned soft. "Please take care of him."

"We will."

-

The brothers sat in the Impala for a while without starting the car. Cas was the topic they hadn't touched properly since the angel's deceit had been revealed. It only got worse after his supposed death. 

Cas was the only friend the brothers had, the one who would always come when they were in serious trouble. Because of that, his betrayal and death cut them deeper than either one of them had thought possible. But now, Cas was alone in the world, convinced that he was beyond forgiveness.

"Sam, it's not that I'm fine with Cas breaking your wall," the older brother broke the silence first, tapping his fingers on the wheel. "I'm still pissed about that, but I, we gotta help him."

"Dean," Sam huffed. "I know more than anyone what it is like to loose sight while trying to do the right thing. What he did, a part of me might be angry, too, but," he shrugged. "He's still our friend."

That was the truth of the matter.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as he started the engine. "Let's go find him."


	7. Chapter 7

_He was staring out the window._

_"They won't take long," someone approached him from behind. He could see a reflection of a bearded face on the window._

_"You don't know that," he acknowledged the presence. "They may find more wayward orphans along the way."_

_"Oh, don't get cute."_

_"Right," he fully turned to face the old man, Bobby. "Pardon me for highlighting their crippling and dangerous empathetic response with 'sarcasm'," he gestured awkwardly. He was tired. "It was a bad idea - letting them go."_

_Bobby gave him a look. "Come on. You don't let Sam and Dean Winchester do squat. They got what they gotta. You know that," Bobby's voice was gruff, but it was oddly comforting. "Anyway, we want Eve, we need coordinates. So we can stand here bellyaching or we can go poke that pig 'til he squeals. Thoughts?"_

No, not again, Emmanuel shook his head. He had thought that the trickle of memories would be one time deal, but it kept coming and going. It was frustrating to get small bits and pieces that added up to nothing. They all mixed up with one another; endlessly fleeing from one place to next, working with Dean as FBI agents, hearing Sam's voice _Let us help_ echoing in his mind, staring down at the bodies littering the ground, watching Sam and Dean carry his injured body to bed before passing out, listening to Sam telling him that he would find a way to kill Cas.... 

It hurt. Emmanuel slumped against the bus window. They were only memories, yet he had never felt so drained and exausted before.

He wondered if this was what waking up from a dream felt like. He had once asked Daphne what sleeping was, and she had answered, "Uh, you close your eyes and at some point you...black out, stop thinking, and fell asleep. Of course, often dream plays out in your head, but that's not really a conscious activity so you're not technically thinking, and I'm sorry I'm rambling, aren't I?", which had only added confusion at that time.

The point being, if dreaming was being involuntarily subjected to watching a scene play out in his head, that was fairly what he was getting. He was disgruntled to discover that he had gone straight to the dreaming stage without actually sleeping. "Stop thinking" was precisely what he needed since memories continued to assault him.

A concrete timeline to pin down each of his memory would have been a great help, he mused wistfully. Try as he might, he couldn't straighten out his relationship with the Winchesters. The memories of them were so contradictory. One minute, they were ready to kill him, and the next minute, they acted friendly. The most baffling thing was - Emmanuel had figured this out when he revisited his first memory - that Dean had never met Cas before he shot him.

It posed a new question. Why get close to someone you considered a monster in the first place?

_Are you sure you're remembering things right?_

Emmanuel pushed Daphne's voice out of his head. There was a fleeting thought that maybe, he was judging Past-him too harshly, but he didn't want to defend Cas, not even in his mind. It wasn't like the Winchesters were in a forgiving mood, either.

_We hunt animals that hurt people._

Dean had uttered those words with odd intensity, like he was speaking of entirely different matter. In hindsight, Emmanuel realized that he was the animal in question that Dean and Sam came to hunt. A part of him whispered that he should have gone straight to them after he regained enough memory to put it all together, that he should have faced the punishement those two planned to dole out. 

If only the memories would stop coming back. 

The problem was that the Winchesters didn't seem to know how to put him down permanently. Guns and knives did nothing, and him being alive was the proof that Sam hadn't found a way yet. If Cas woke up while Emmanuel was confronting the brothers...

No, it was better he stayed away.

The bus stopped, announcing that this was its last stop. Emmanuel let himself be pulled into swam of humanity and got out of the confining vehicle. He checked for his option; walk to the nearest city, or try another ride on the bus?

"Hello, Emmanuel."

Emmanuel whipped toward the voice. 

"Demon," he stepped back. The instinctive urge to destroy it was there, but he clamped it down since he also had a feeling that doing so would only hasten the return of Cas. 

"Don't be like that, we come in different flavors," she drawled, and there was something familiar about it. Emmanuel frowned as something formed in his mind. No, surely he didn't. Why would he kiss-..

"Meg," he tested, praying that he was wrong. 

Her eyeborws shoot up. "Clarence. Didn't know you were really here," she leared enticingly.

Emmanuel gave up on trying to understand Cas. It appeared his past self was disturbingly well known among demons. "What do you want from me?" he asked flatly, hoping to hear the reason for his fame from the very source.

"You and me moving furniture together, what else?" she responded coyly, but after a moment tsked at his blank face. "Explanation for your survival, for starters. Last I heard, you played God, went poof."

Play God? If that was a figure of speech he didn't quite grasp it. "I don't know," he replied honestly.

"Of course, mysterious resurrections are nothing to you," she commented dryly, whatever that meant. "Care to explain playing Emmanuel, then? If that was your idea of hiding, sugar, you sucked. That much body count? You were begging to be noticed."

"I didn't do much."

Meg quirked her eyebrows. She looked beyond exasperated. "Sure thing. Now, are we ready to stop hopscotching and actually do something? You had days. Crowley isn't going to be oblivious forever."

"Who?"

"Are you joking?"

Emmanuel realized that he had slipped up. He decided to wait out in case the demon was in an explanatory mood. Meg kept staring him, her arms crossed.

They were in a stalemate.

"Taking a bus, you weren't just playing human, were you," she stated slowly, realization dawning on her. "Your marble is screwed."

Emmanuel lifted his chin defiantly.

"Oh, for the love of-," Meg shook her head. "How much do you remember? Do you even know what you are?" She gave him time to answer. When nothing came back, she huffed in amusement, and said, "you're an angel."

"Is that...a flirtation?"

"No," she smirked. "It's a specie. A very powerful one."

"What do you mean by an angel. An angel, as in the Bible?"

"I heard that you folks had a hand in creating that book. Did you never wonder why you can heal people, and smite demons?"

An angel. Emmanuel couldn't believe it. It explained his abilities, but if he was an angel, how could his past self do what he did? He felt paralyzed. 

He was supposed to be a Guardian.

"So, angel," Meg smiled. "What do you say to smiting the King of Hell?"

"I-," he clenched and unclenched his fists. "How do I know you're not trying to put me off guard and simply kill me?"

The demon sighed. "Clarence, I'm not stupid enough to kill off my possible ally against Crowley. Besides, I don't have an Angel Blade."

"Angel Blade?"

Meg opened her mouth, annoyed at having to spell out everything. Before she could deliver any sharp message, however, something made her stop. She searched his face. "Cas," she called him for the first time, and Emmanuel couldn't completely stop himself from flinching. "What do you remember?"

Wind swept between them. Emmanuel decided to take another bus.

"Well, I see," Meg nonchalantly spoke after length of silence. "This trust issue is really annoying. Call me when you are ready for my help."

The demon tossed a cell phone at him and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meg voice was really difficult to get.
> 
> Please give me some R&R? Hope you liked the story :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief discussion of the character's suicidal ideation.

"Where the hell did Cas learn to do this disappearing act?" Dean groaned as he thumped his head on the table.

"Well, he did evade both Heaven and Hell all by himself for, what, two or three years?" Sam listlessly replied, burying his head in his hands. "I guess he had practise."

"Does he even remember? And dude never done this as human before, did he?" A pause. "Hold on, do you think he's zapping around?"

"Then we're screwed. He can be anywhere in the world. Let's just presume he's moving like a human, okay? It's hard enough as it is," Sam rubbed his eyes. He had been hacking CCTV footages and checking them for days. "He's not using any credit cards, and he left his phone in Daphne's. He doesn't go to motels or restaurants. It looks like he only interacts with people when he's buying bus tickets." 

Dean chugged his coffee. They managed to go the bus station near Daphne's house and follow a couple of trasport spots Cas used, but the trail got cold after that. Interrogating people didn't bring much results. If Cas still had his trench coat, more people would have noticed him. However, as Cas had been wearing ordinary dark clothing the day he left, people only made confused noise when confronted with the description of the man.

As their last straw, the Winchesters had discussed the possibility of modifying the spell they used to summon Balthazar, even though Cas would freak out majorly if he got dragged up like that. It wasn't a valid option anyway. Since all the useful books they got went aflame along with Bobby's house, the conversarion had died down quickly in a depressing note.

Thus here they were, dejectedly picking at their late lunch in a nice cafe. The weather was freaking great. Dean sighed and Sam threw up his hands in defeat. The waitress in the cafe yelped as she had unfortunate encounter with the younger man's giant hands. She glared at them as she had almost dropped the plate. Sam cringed, apologized repeatedly, and slumped in relief as she stomped away.

"Are you boys always this pathetic?"

The brothers' hands flew to their weapon as they abruptly stood up from their seat. 

"Meg," Dean spat out. He was acutely aware of innocent people walking around them without a care. He didn't know whether or not he should curse the fact that they chose to sit on the table outside of the cafe today.

"You gonna stab me here, Dean?" Meg quirked an eyebrow. "You'll be dragged down the streat as a psycho."

"Would be worth it."

"Aw, thanks," she cooed. "But I think you'll get Dick right in your face the moment your arrest hit the news."

Dean mutely glared. He couldn't dispute her on that point.

"What do you want, Meg?" Sam asked tersely.

"I've got news on your darling angel."

That got Dean's immediate attention. He snarled. "If you hurt him-"

"Relax, I didn't touch a hair on your boyfriend. The only head I currently want is Crowley's."

"Where is he?" Sam intervened, ever the practical one.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "He was on the bus station the last time I saw him. He would have skipped the town already."

"Don't care. Spill it, Meg."

"Look," the demon drew her arms up exasperately. "I'm here to help you, okay? So stow the attitude."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Oh, help us, really. Why?"

"You know how Crowley and I were frosty back in the day? Well, times haven't changed."

"You planning on using Cas?" Dean accused sharply.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Crowley may have got his eyes set on me right now but when Cas' survival reaches his ears, he would be howling for angel blood very soon. You remember what your friend did to him, right?" The brothers shifted as they were reminded of the whole God fiasco. Meg looked around her smugly with hand on her hip. "Crowley's demise is for everybody's best interest. So why don't we all work together, huh? Nice and friendly."

The brothers exchanged series of signal with their eyes. Sam suddenly held out his hand as if someting just occurred to him. "Meg, did you really see Cas? With your own eyes?"

"You're doubting me because-?"

"You're a demon," Meg rolled her eyes. "No, really, not that I'm saying you should have done this but," Sam let out a humorless huff. "Why didn't you snatch him up without contacting us? Cas is the one you want on your side against Crowley."

Meg drew back. She crossed her arms. "I needed some duct tape," she answered grudgingly. 

"What duct tape?"

"You." She sighed at their uncomprehending face. "I know about Emmanuel. I know that his memory is a bit screwy."

"And?" Dean returned shortly. He didn't want to give away anything.

"He was very surprised to find out that he was an angel. Devastated, actually, though I think he was trying to hide it. And when I mentioned the Angel Blade, you should have seen the look on his face. So hopeful."

For a moment, Dean didn't understand what the hell Meg was getting at.

_If you saw what he did, he deserved to die._

"No," said Dean. That was all he could think. There was no way.

"I'm only saying we should get there before poor broken Cas finds his Angel Blade and do something."

"You're not suggesting... what I think you're suggesting," Dean heard Sam protesting weakly.

"Hey, maybe I'm wrong. It's not like he spent all his time on Earth with self-loathing, self-destructive idiots, yeah?" 

No one spoke.

Meg smiled with exaggerated cheer. "Let's hit the pedal boys."

-

Coeur D’Alene, Idaho.

Here they were, finally. Sam took a moment to appreciate the fact. To say that negotiating with Meg was bumpy was huge understatement. 

Firstly, since Meg was the only one who knew where they should head to because of her tracking spell, she had to sit on the back of the car and follow them around. The snark fight between Dean and Meg which was heavily dosed with moments of alright-get-off-we-will-have-at-it from Dean side and oh-aren't-you-cute from Meg made the ride pretty uncomfortable. 

Then, Dean stuck Meg in the Devil's Trap.

"Dammit, what is it now?" Meg asked, irritated.

"You could have given us one freaking moment of peace in the car, but you didn't. You were fucking with us on purpose. But then I thought, hey, it's good that she isn't flying off to do who knows what. So let's keep it this way while we rest a bit, agreed?"

"You really want to do this when you have to free me eventually?"

"You need the duct tape, remember? And come on, what's more animosity between us?"

Yeah, Sam digged the ride after that.

He was so glad it was over now.

"You sure he's here?" Sam checked as he stared dubiously at the sleazy motel in front of them. It didn't seem like a place Cas would stay, especially when he didn't needed to sleep.

"It's a tracking spell, dumbass. If it points here, he's here."

"Alright, alright. Let's go."

They were led to room 203. Dean took a lead and knocked.

"Cas, you in there?" No reply. "Cas, come on, we really need to talk."

And wasn't that a strange sentence that came out of his brother's mouth. Sam looked at his brother, but Dean was focused on his task. Not that it coaxed out any answer from the other side of the door.

"Okay," Dean stated calmy and rammed open the door.

"Dean!" Sam hissed loudly. He understood the sentiment because what Meg said about Cas was seriously troubling, but his brother could have given some warning. He didn't want the angel to bolt in surprise.

An unexpectedly high pitched shout greeted them. "Holy fuck! What you doing?!" Sam could see a shirtless man scrambling on the bed over Dean's shoulder.

"Where is he?" Dean growled.

"What are you talking about?" The ginger guy scowled at them. "Get the hell- whoa!" He gasped as Dean agressively stalked toward him. Sam could just imagine what kind of expression Dean was wearing right now.

"Where. Is. He?"

"Back off, Romeo," Meg drawled sweetly. 

Sam peeked out of the door to make sure that no one was coming at their ruckus. The owner of the room saw this casual approach and gave a pleading look at the demon as if she was the only sane one he could rely on. Meg put on a sympathetic voice and asked, "have you picked up any phone recently? Perhaps you thought someone abandoned it?"

"Phone?" The hunter scowled at her.

"Y-yeah, it was, it was just there," the poor guy stammered. "No one called. I didn't think- I just grabbed it. I'm sorry, please don't kill me."

"Where is it?"

"On, on the table."

"Thanks," Meg patted the guy on the cheek and sauntered toward the pointed direction. 

"A phone. You put your tracking spell on a phone?" Dean said, catching up withe situation.

"You think putting a whammy on angel is easy? Please. We were lucky he didn't ditch the phone long before this."

Dean glared at her balefully. "Sam and I could've tracked down the damned phone by ourselves."

"Then what? You would have stabbed me in the back after you got the number."

Paranoia was the word the demon lived by, it seemed. Well, perhaps not, Sam allowed. It was not paranoia if it was reality. They would have done it given chance.

"Well, my job is done here, then," she collected her phone. "I'll go get some info on Crowley now, so you boys be good and do your job properly, alright? Wait for mommy."

"What do you- son of a bitch!"

Dean cursed as the demon vanished.


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby didn't regret choosing to stay as a ghost. It was just that sometimes- well, most of the times this existence got downright frustrating. Even nudging things around took tremendous efforts, and that generally resulted in knocking him flat out. 

"Dean, we knew we couldn't trust Meg fully."

-and when you were trying to look out for idjits like the Winchesters, less than 24/7 vigilance resulted in shit slapping you right in the face upon your awakening. What the hell were the boys doing to mention the word _trust_ anywhere near Meg?

"That bitch," Dean seethed. "Should have kept her trapped so she wouldn't put this disappearing act on."

Sam watched his brother sympathetically and said, "at least we came this far. We'll sleep first, gather more intell, and find Cas."

Find _Cas_? Bobby raised his eyebrow. So that angel was alive? Maybe Bobby shouldn't have been so surprised since the angel had survived being blasted into molecules twice, but well, the old man thought that the angel might have fallen out of God's favor after what he did. Apparently not, for some divine intervention would have been needed to keep the angel alive after Leviathand raveged Castiel's body. The old hunter briefly wondered why the absent God deemed it fit to intervene only in the angel's death. 

"We don't even know for sure Cas had been here for long." Dean drummed the wheel irritatedly. He seemed to be itching for action. "I mean, a phone from a demon? Even Emmanuel couldn't have been naive enough to keep it for long."

"Who the hell is Emmanuel?" Bobby asked out loud even though no one could hear him. Talking was the only outlet he got now, as pathetic as it was. "And why is that angel hiding from ya?" He added for good measure.

"It's still a better lead then we had before," Sam replied patiently, predictably oblivious to Bobby's questions. "We can't just move aimlessly. We gotta find more leads."

Dean stayed stone cold still. He started the car without any reply. Sam looked a bit alarmed.

"Dude, where do you think you're going?" 

"Calm your tits, Sammy. We're going to a motel. Only about 5 minutes drive away. You were the one who said we should stay."

"Dean," Sam spoke slowly. "We're parked right in front of the motel."

Dean clenched his jaws. "I don't like the look of this place."

Sam put up no more resistance. Bobby, on the other hand, had no problem cursing those idjits. He couldn't believe he was saying this, but the boys needed to goddamn talk. How was he supposed to help them if they were so sparing with information even among themselves?

"Hey, we'll find him," Sam tried to console his brother as they got to the other motel. Dean's only response was to jerk his head curtly.

"If you're gonna mope around, take the the damn flask so I can laugh at your sorry ass!" Bobby shouted at the boys' back, pointing at the object stuck in the trunk. It was depressing how he got so used to having this kind of one-sided conversation these days.

Grumbling, the old man got out of the car as well. He leant against the hood and stared up ahead. Open space helped him in some degree to keep his head clear. What he gathered so far was that the angel was alive and somehow missing and that the boys were working with Meg to find him. Was Cas being held captive somewhere or was he running away from the boys? Maybe Sam and Dean was as lost as the old hunter was, thus resulting in working with Meg.

Bobby bit back a sigh. Nobody liked dealing with demons, everybody knew it would bite them in the ass eventually, but they always got tangled with reluctant demon allies. It was a sad state of affair that often, demons were the only ones to offer assistance with resources they had. Those Hell spawns could smell desperation from miles away and came to them dangling a deal they couldn't refuse.

He looked up to the dark sky. This would have been a great time to knock back a glass or two. He curses his corporeal existence.

-

**13 hours earlier**

Emmanuel sat on a bench, elbows leaned loosely on his knees, in a remote part of the park. Tall trees surrounded him, and flowers peeked their heads on the ground. For the moment, there was no one around him, and he felt safe in the fact he couldn't hurt anyone now.

He idly toyed with the phone the demon gave him. By all means, he should have destroyed it on principle. 

_So, angel, what do you say to smiting the King of Hell?_

Those words made him hesitate, made him keep the thing close. Meg was a demon and demons lied, but there was a truly desperate edge to her smile. He didn't know what she did to be targeted by her own King, but she was being hunted. 

It was madness, contemplating working with the abomination. But Emmanuel could feel his time coming to an end, like sand slipping through one's fingers, inevitable no matter the resistance. He would be drowned by the vast presence of the angel soon. 

He was going to die one way or another, why not make his death mean something? Angels were supposed to be Guardians and it seemed like he had failed epically before. Smiting the King of Hell was the least thing he could do. Emmanuel needed to atone for his past self... his own actions. He worried his lower lip and gazed down. There was only one contact number. Meg would gladly take him to the King.

 _ **I pray to Castiel who art-, ah fuck it. Can you hear me?**_

Emmanuel dropped the phone in surprise. He whirled. He couldn't find anyone. The desperate, panicked voice of Dean Winchester kept ringing, reverberating inside him.

 _ **Cas, Cas, where are you, man? I heard- I need you to listen. Don't do anything stupid, okay? I need you, man, so, so, just... Don't do anything stupid. That's all I'm asking. Hang on.**_

Emmanuel stayed rooted in his place, unable to breathe properly. _Dean_ , he thought. His chest felt strangely heavy. He stared ahead, unaware of everything around him. 

Why was he hearing Dean's voice now of all time?

His eyes landed on the fallen phone. He reached for it, then hesitated. He clenched his fist. He needed to think, and he didn't need this temptation near him. 

He stood up and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story! By the way, if you're wondering what would have happened if Cas didn't stumble into Meg, you can go to
> 
> https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10658044/1/Hello-Stranger
> 
> It is an edited version of this fic, and deviates from chapter 7. I didn't mean to but here I'm with AU of my AU fic :P I would be happy if you could R&R!


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